


Ab Imo Pectore

by apoptoses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: se01e08, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apoptoses/pseuds/apoptoses
Summary: Will picked up one of the chocolates, rotating it under the light to watch the gold details glimmer. They were almost too fine and delicate to eat. “You know they say that life is like a box of chocolates because you don’t know what you’re going to get.”
Hannibal smiled.  "I thought it might be comforting for you to know exactly what you’ll get for once.”
“And that’s your heart in a box?” Will said before all of the implications of the question could sink in.
“Is that what you would like it to be?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSilverQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverQueen/gifts).



> Set shortly after Fromage.

_"I rip your still beating heart from your chest and toss it to the ground, just as you have done to mine," Will mutters as he plunges his hand into the victim's body cavity and grasps the heart. "You do not deserve to be elevated into art. You-"_

"Well, they say to put your heart into your work."

Zeller's voice yanked Will out of his imagination, like a fish jerked out of the water by the hook and left gasping on dry land. Will ran a hand over his face. Not for the first time that day, he wished Hannibal were there to back him up. But Hannibal was back in Baltimore, tending to his wounds, and Will was stuck in blood splattered house.

There had been a Sweetest Day massacre, because of course someone had to decide they couldn't wait until February to go off the rails. Three bodies laid in the living room of the home, each with hearts forcibly ripped from their chests and pinned to the floorboards with knives. Price knelt on the floor before Will as he photographed one.

"Yeah, but not literally," Price said.

"Check this out," Zeller held out a fourth heart, already bagged and tagged for removal to the lab, beneath Price's nose. Price turned an ugly shade of grey.

"Ugh, where did you get that?”

“The kitchen. And get this, no body to match it, no knife, nothing like the others.”

“Well put it back,” Price complained. “You know, I’ve always found it funny that out of all the bodily organs we could choose from, the heart is the one that ended up as a symbol of love.”

“There was a push in the eighteen hundreds to start considering the brain the primary organ of the body and the seat of the human soul, but it never really took off,” Zeller said.

Will pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket. “Guess nobody wanted to draw little brains on their valentine’s day cards,” he said and shook a pill into his palm.

There was the bang of the front door being thrown open. Jack strode into the room and bent to examine one of the hearts that was still pinned to the floor. He frowned at the cheap kitchen knives they’d been impaled on. “What have we got, Will?”

“We’re looking for a male, relatively close in age to the victims. Uh, probably a polyamorous situation gone wrong,” Will said. “He got voted off the metaphorical island and went postal. The fourth heart was likely to have belonged to the witness who wasn’t necessarily in the relationship but had to be dealt with anyways.”

“But where’s the body?” Jack asked.

“He probably felt guilty. Dragged it off, attempted to hide it. I’d estimate the police will find it within a ten mile radius of his house.” Will fumbled with putting his glasses back on. “Now can I ask exactly why we’re at such a banal crime scene?”

Banal was a generous word for it. It wasn’t like Jack to drag himself out in the cold for a crime a rookie officer could have solved. He dealt in the crimes of the deranged, not crimes of passion.

Jack sighed.

“Look, Will, you don’t just send your player out to make a major shot right after they’ve recovered from an injury-”

“Oh, so I’m damaged goods?” Will rolled his eyes. “I got into a close scrape with Budge. I didn’t even get injured -”

“But you could have been.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little late in the game to start caring about my well being, isn’t it?” Will asked. “I know what we’re looking for, you know what we’re looking for, hell, even Zeller probably knew what we were looking for the second we walked in. Can I go home now?”

“You go home when I say you can go home.”

“And are you saying I can go?”

“Get out,” Jack snapped. “And check your attitude before I have to see you again.”

Teeth clenched, Will stormed toward the door. He let it slam behind himself, the ‘fuck you’ he couldn’t bring himself to say.

\---

It was either serendipity or sub-conscious longing that led Will to take the exit that led him back into the city of Baltimore and right into Hannibal Lecter’s driveway. He deliberated about going up to the door for some time. It took Hannibal knocking gently on his window to finally force Will to get over himself and go inside.

The house was picture perfect; tidy enough to be photographed for an interiors magazine and yet eclectic enough to look lived in and reflect its owner. It was the type of place Will felt at odds with. He always feared leaving a fingerprint on the counter but had a compulsion to lean against it all the same; to claim a space for himself within Hannibal’s walls.  
Will accepted the steaming mug of coffee Hannibal poured for him, gratefully wrapping his fingers around it and soaking in its warmth. “Coffee at nine o’clock at night?”

“You looked in need of some caffeine,” Hannibal explained as he tinkered with the machine. “And I presume you drove yourself here, so alcohol would be out of the question. Unless you were planning to stay the night?”

Hannibal’s face was neutral as he asked the question, but there was a hint of invitation behind it that made Will flush. “Jack will probably call me back to Quantico before the night is out.”

“Never a moment’s peace with Uncle Jack, is there?” Hannibal mused. “Tell me what you saw today.”

“Four hearts ripped out and tossed aside by a jealous ex-lover. A relatively tame day considering the killers we’ve dealt with before.”

“The heart is a rare gift. It’s a shame for anyone to take it and discard it in such a manner.”

Will snorted. “You’re telling me.”

Hannibal considered him in that quiet way of his, eyes cataloging each tiny shift of Will’s expression until he felt just as cracked open and exposed as the bodies he’d seen on the floor that evening.

“Has someone taken your heart lightly, Will?”

“It’s impossible to take something lightly if you don’t take it into consideration in the first place isn’t it?” Will said. He winced at how bitter he sounded once the words left his mouth.

“I imagine for someone like yourself it’s easy to feel that way, considering your mind is most often the topic of conversation. But your heart is also precious thing which ought to be cherished.”

Will stared at the countertop, unsure of how to respond to such a compliment. “Thank you. I guess.”

With a soft clink of china on steel, Hannibal set his cup down. “This reminds me, I have a gift for you.”

Will regarded Hannibal with a frown. “A gift. For me.”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No. I just- I think the last time I got a present was through the office secret santa. Zeller re-gifted me a bottle of Old Spice.”

“I’ll have to get his contact information and admonish him properly for such a tasteless choice. A gift without thought or heart in it is hardly a gift at all.”

“Does your gift for me have heart in it?” he asked.

Hannibal smiled. “I suppose you’ll have to be the judge.”

Will watched as Hannibal strode out of the room, a slight limp in his step where Budge had stabbed him near the knee.

There was the quiet sound of a cabinet being opened and then shut, and a rustle- ribbon, or gift wrap, perhaps. Will’s ears went pink at the thought of Hannibal going to such trouble over him. Not that he didn’t always go to great trouble over him.

Carefully prepared breakfasts. Dinner. Car rides. Gifts. Will hesitated to imagine what could possibly come next, lest he come to too hopeful of a conclusion.

Hannibal returned bearing a simple brown box, tied shut with a length of ribbon that matched sky blue of his pocket square. Had Will been the type to indulge in social media he would have taken a photo of the elegantly tied bow before undoing it.

He barked out a laugh upon seeing its contents.

Six perfectly formed chocolates sat before him, each in the shape of an anatomical heart with the major arteries and veins brushed gold.

“You got me heart shaped chocolates on sweetest day?” Will asked, incredulous.

“A friend gave me the mold as a joke sometime ago,” Hannibal explained. “I thought you would appreciate the results. Each has a different filling. Espresso, white chocolate lavender, raspberry, orange, and ginger wasabi”

Will picked up one of the chocolates, rotating it under the light to watch the gold details glimmer. They were almost too fine and delicate to eat. “You know they say that life is like a box of chocolates because you don’t know what you’re going to get.”

“Yes. Although I thought it might be comforting for you to know exactly what you’ll get for once.”

“And that’s your heart in a box?” Will said before all of the implications of the question could sink in.

For perhaps the first time, Hannibal looked caught off guard. Exposed, something in the back of Will’s brain prompted. Hannibal tapped his fingers on the counter, the sound a perfect accompaniment to the pounding of Will’s heart.

He had the same look on his face as when Will had walked into his office to find the body of Tobias Budge sprawled on the floor. Open and vulnerable, as if some carefully constructed veil had slipped back for a split-second; blink and Will would miss it.

“Is that what you would like it to be?” Hannibal asked.

Will shrugged and fussed with the edge of the ribbon that was lying on the counter. “What I’d like and what I get are often two very different things.”

“From Jack, perhaps, but I-”

The phone rang.

Hannibal’s expression tightened as Will’s heart fell.

“Speak of the devil,” Will muttered as he glanced over the message. “I ah- I have to go. Jack.”

“Of course.” Hannibal placed the lid back on the chocolates and carefully re-tied the bow before pressing the box into Will’s hands. “I’ll walk you out.”

Gift in hand, Will walked out in the dark night. He looked back at Hannibal’s shadow in the doorway and wished he hadn’t have needed to leave at all.

\---

“Christ,” Will swore and tossed his pen down on the desk. It bounced off the mess that was his paperwork and landed on the floor across the room just as Beverly walked in.

“Fun night for you too, huh?” she asked as she swooped down to pick it up.

“You know how I love doing reports until- what time is it?”

“Almost midnight. What’s that?” Beverly asked, pointing to the box that sat on the table next to Will’s stack of paperwork.

“Oh. Doctor Lecter made me chocolates.”

“Homemade chocolates on sweetest day? Ooh la la, someone’s got themselves an admirer,” Bev opened the box and took a peek at the contents. “Except the ‘please kill me’ look on your face makes it seem like you’re not sure you admire him back.”

Will sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.”I’m just...surprised, I guess. And I didn’t know what to do so I freaked out and ran here as soon as Jack called.”

“So you left him hanging? Ouch.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno. You’re good looking, he’s good looking. In the words of Marvin Gaye, let’s-”

Will held up a hand in protest. “Let’s not complete that sentence.”

Bev laughed. “So what did he say when he gave them to you?”

“That’s the thing. I asked if he was offering me his heart in a more literal sense and he acted like it was up to me to decide.”

“That’s generous.”

“Too generous, even for him.”

“Well, feelings can make us do funny things,” Bev said. “Besides, it’s not like you have a lot of agency here at work with Jack breathing down your neck. Maybe he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s pushing himself on you.”

“Maybe I want him to push himself on me,” Will said and hastily added, “not literally.”

Beverly stared at him. Will put his face in his hands and sighed.

“Maybe a little literally.”

Bev smirked. “Maybe you should tell him that. Can I try a chocolate or are you going to keep them forever as a memento?”

Will pushed the box towards her in offering and plucked out one for himself. The heart melted in the heat of his mouth, raspberry blossoming on his tongue like blood.

\---

The lights were still on in Hannibal’s sitting room, despite the hour nearing one o’clock. Will shivered as he knocked on the door despite the way his blood was pounding in his ears from nerves.

There was the sound of the foyer door being closed, the deadbolt sliding out of the lock, and then there was Hannibal standing before him in a sweater and pajama pants. Will very much wanted to press his face into the soft knit of his sweater.

“Will,” Hannibal greeted. “I was just getting ready for bed. What can I do for you?”

“I ate the chocolates,” Will blurted out. “And I thought about what you asked.”

Hannibal nodded. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside to finish our conversation?”

There was a fire crackling in the sitting room, casting long shadows across the floor. Hannibal took a seat in his armchair, where a blanket lay draped over the arm. A book was on the table. Interrupted while reading, Will thought with a pang of guilt. He declined the offer to sit lest the situation go sideways and he need to make a quick getaway; instead standing before Hannibal, unsure of what to do with his hands.

“And what conclusion did you come to?” Hannibal prompted.

“I need to ask a question before I can tell you that.”

“Go on.”

“I just,” Will began, wringing at his own hands in frustration. “I keep wondering why now, and why you haven’t mentioned any of this before. Why you want to just leave it up to me, like you’re sort of...lukewarm about the whole idea.”

Hannibal frowned. “Is it so hard to believe that I hold genuine affection for you, Will?”

“It’s not like I’m such a great catch,” Will shrugged. “I mean, honestly, I have more dogs than I have human friends and-”

“And that’s why I have been at a crossroads as to my feelings about you for some time,” Hannibal said. “When I look at you I see someone in desperate need of friendship. To force my own romantic inclinations upon you and change the nature of our relationship seems selfish.”

“And forcing me to decide what you will or will not do with those feelings isn’t selfish?” Will countered.

“Then perhaps it’s time for you be selfish and demand of me exactly what you need.”

Will looked at Hannibal, watched the light from the fire play across his face; highlighting the sharpness of his cheeks and the bow of his lips. He felt as though he were on a precipice he couldn’t pull himself back from. The only choice was to lean in and hope Hannibal would catch him on his plunge over the edge.

With unsteady hands he cupped Hannibal’s jaw, tilting his face up so that Will could lean in and brush their lips together.

Before the warmth of the kiss could seep into his skin he found himself yanked into Hannibal’s lap and pressed up against the winged arm of the chair. Hannibal kissed like a tsunami; dragging Will under until he entirely forgot how to breathe.

“Do I still seem lukewarm in my feelings for you?” Hannibal murmured against Will’s mouth, sucking Will’s lower lip in between his teeth before he could respond.

“No. No, not at all,” Will said. “Is that invitation to stay the night still open?”

Hannibal’s face was too close for him to see his smile, but Will could feel it in the brush of Hannibal’s lips against his cheek.

“For you? Always.”


End file.
